The next day, at eight o'clock in the morning, Anna got out of a
hired sledge and rang at the front entrance of her former home.
"Run and see what's wanted. Some lady," said Kapitonitch, who,
not yet dressed, in his overcoat and galoshes, had peeped out of
the window and seen a lady in a veil standing close up to the
door. His assistant, a lad Anna did not know, had no sooner
opened the door to her than she came in, and pulling a
three-rouble note out of her muff put it hurriedly into his hand.
"Seryozha--Sergey Alexeitch," she said, and was going on.
Scrutinizing the note, the porter's assistant stopped her at the
second glass door.
"Whom do you want?" he asked.
She did not hear his words and made no answer.
Noticing the embarrassment of the unknown lady, Kapitonitch went
out to her, opened the second door for her, and asked her what
she was pleased to want.
"From Prince Skorodumov for Sergey Alexeitch," she said.
"His honor's not up yet," said the porter, looking at her
Anna had not anticipated that the absolutely unchanged hall of
the house where she had lived for nine years would so greatly
affect her. Memories sweet and painful rose one after another in
her heart, and for a moment she forgot what she was here for.
"Would you kindly wait?" said Kapitonitch, taking off her fur
As he took off the cloak, Kapitonitch glanced at her face,
recognized her, and made her a low bow in silence.
"Please walk in, your excellency," he said to her.
She tried to say something, but her voice refused to utter any
sound; with a guilty and imploring glance at the old man she went
with light, swift steps up the stairs. Bent double, and his
galoshes catching in the steps, Kapitonitch ran after her, trying
to overtake her.